Five or six tables away, as I felt the coffee warm my mouth with the taste of French Roast, I heard her laughing. What a beautiful laugh so early in the crisp, cool morning, I mused, as I glanced in her direction, only to catch her glance at me over his right shoulder. She wasn’t alone. What a lucky guy, I thought - quickly darting my eyes back to my coffee - to wake up every morning to a smile like hers.

And that’s how we first met, as she excused herself from this “lucky guy” to go powder her nose. She walked right past me, never taking her eyes off me. I’ve never felt a look like that before – like the long, half-naked kiss of a lover! She returned with a folded cocktail napkin, slid it in my jacket pocket and whispered in my ear.

The “lucky guy” never knew.

For the next three nights I lay awake, slowly inhaling her perfume still on the napkin, reading every word.

And that’s how we first met.

It’s a lie that I thought would never be used on me. But it was. It had to be, because I was the first lie.

Today, she would say that I’m the only man she would regret loosing. But she’s lost me a hundred times. She only likes the men who are broken and need fixing - they’re obvious, they’re easy, they’re dumb.

Copyright (c) Reid Walley